


The hitch-hiker

by crazycatlady_42



Category: X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Truckers, Crack, Fluff and Crack, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-24
Updated: 2015-08-29
Packaged: 2018-04-17 01:02:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4646514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crazycatlady_42/pseuds/crazycatlady_42
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Logan is a trucker who finds Kurt imprisoned. Hijinks (and sexy time) ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. chapter 1

Logan looked down onto the seat next to him. Damn. Almost outa smokes. Aww well, theres a rest stop in a coupla miles, might as well stop there for a bite, maybe overnight, depending on traffic.  
Pulling his rig off the highway, Logan Howlett of X-Tra Special Shipping Company coasted into a rest stop somewhere in the middle of Arizona. Grabbing some cash (and his Go-Bag), Logan made his way over to what is probably the only dinner in this rinky-dink town. Logan barely got through the front door (little bell and all) when he was roughly shoved back up against it by a golden-haired mutant with large, metal wings trying to rush out. Ghuh.  
“Watch it, bub!”  
“What, you want to beat on the mutant, too?!” Pretty boy responded, bracing for a fight. Logan only smelled fear from him.  
Putting his palms up in the universal I’m-not-going-to-hurt-you gesture, Logan shuffled to his left, unblocking the door but keeping the mutant well within sight.  
“Listen, bub, I don’t want no trouble ‘ere. Just wanta nice, hot meal nd maybe a cold one.” Logan stated, suddenly noticing how hostile the other patrons were postured towards the duo.  
“Whatever. Probly a mutantphobic anyway!” The blond mutters as he rushes past Logan, through the doors. He starts running and takes flight, getting out of sight in just a few moments.  
“Sheesh.” Logan muttered.  
“Aww, sugar! Don’t pay no attention to him! His feathers just got a little ruffled! Ha-ha!” a busty, well over 50 year old waitress said as she poured Logan a cup of coffee.  
“Hmm.” Logan grunted. After giving his order, Logan sat back and scoped the place. Red plastic booths, checkerboard floors, and the smell of coffee, burgers, and pie. Couldn’t get much more American hometown than this.  
CRASH!!  
“YOU DUMB TANT! WATCH THAT FUCKIN TAIL O YURS OR I’LL CUT IT OFF YA!” A deep, gravelly voice screamed from the kitchen. And there’s that xenophobic behavior, too. Wait, tail? Tant? As in mutant? Hmm…  
For the rest of his meal, all Logan could smell was a deep, sulphuric fear coming from the kitchen. The kind of fear that makes someone edgy, like they want to leave but they can’t. Logan took his time on dessert, opting for more coffee instead of a beer in case his crazy plan worked. They’d need to get out of town quick.

After paying for his meal, Logan went across the street to the convenience store to get a couple of cartons of cigarettes and some snacks. Storing his bag back in his truck, he made his way over to the side of the dinner that didn’t have windows, around the dumpster, and stopped by the picnic table for employee breaks next to the back door, which was cracked open with a chain. In fact, the chain led over to attach securely to a large dog-house like structure, bolted to the side of the dinner. Another crash came from inside, followed by what sounded like a scuffle of bodies. Logan ducted behind the dumpster just before a being was thrown out (read: through) the door, into a blue heap not too far from the table.  
The cook was already back inside, muttering about clumsy tails before Logan could snap out of his staring. The blue lump lay there not moving except for a shallow breath every so often. As Logan inched closer, he noticed the blue creature had a strange orange collar skin tight around his neck which was attached to the long chain that led to the ‘dog house’. Anger towards the dinner workers coursed through Logan until he was unconsciously growling. Hearing this, the blue being finally moved, his ears twitching, nose flaring, eyes wide. Logan immediately stopped.  
“Hey there. Need some help?” He soothed. The man (now evident by the oh-so-skin-tight booty shorts) simply relaxed a little, but still didn’t move or speak.  
“You got a name?”  
No response.  
Maybe he don’t speak English? Logan wondered. Well, either way, he aint here of his own doing. Might as well help him out.  
By now, Logan was crouched down on one knee next to the ‘elf’ as Logan has affectionately NOT calling him. Slowly, Logan reached his hand up to the mans neck, examining the collar and chain. This close, Logan could definitely smell the sulphur under the thick layer of grease and food. Poking around the collar, Logan relished the feeling of the soft, supple fur covering the man’s whole body. Pulling a hand back, Logan slowly extended one of his claws, causing the smaller man to freeze.  
“Breathe, but don’t move.” Logan stated. The man seems to understand, and even has a twinkle of awe and –hope? in his eyes. It takes a while, longer than Logan would have liked, to saw through the chain a few links away from the collar.  
Gunna have to have Charles get the rest off. Logan thought, just as---  
“Hey! Get away from him! He’s mine!” shouted the prejudiced chef from the doorway, brandishing a large knife.


	2. Chapter 2

The strange, hairy man with the claws smells nice, although now is not the time to contemplate this, I chastise myself. I wrap as many limbs around my furry savior and teleport us as far as I can muster, which is to the side of the diner, as Louie comes running towards us with his ‘discipline knife’. After a moment of disorientation, my savior heaves me over his shoulder and makes a mad dash towards a semi-truck. He apologizes about the rough ride, neatly tossing me into the passenger’s side of the cab. He bolts to the driver’s side, starts up the truck, and peels out of the parking lot, heading towards the highway. I struggle to get the seat belt on, my fingers clumsy from exhaustion and abuse. He glances over, chuckles, reaches over and deftly buckles me. We drive for a few hours at incredible speed before he acknowledges me again. 

“Names Logan.” He grunts out, lighting yet another stinky cigar.

“Kurt. Kurt Vagnur.” I say, pleased to be able to speak again without asking permission or being punished.

He grunts in reply. I wish to say more, to thank him for helping me escape, yet words do not come to me.  
“Hungry?” he asks, nudging a bag across the seat.

“Starving, danke!” I reply, hurriedly digging into the beef jerky and various high-calorie snacks. I offer him a pretzel stick (being polite is very important to me still), which he accepts with a nod of thanks. 

We drive on listening to the radio, having small short conversations every so often. Him telling me about how Charles will be happy to help take the collar off, and me telling him how I ended up imprisoned there. It is not a nice story. We stop around 11 at a gas station next to a corn field. Logan turns the truck off and climbs into the back cab part. After a bit of shuffling, he has made enough room for both of us to sleep. We settle down and soon I am dreaming. I wake in the morning when Logan starts moving. I have accidently been spooning him all night! I apologize but he says he didn’t mind. He tells me to go wash up in the bathroom “cuz you reek of grease, bub.” So I do. When I get back, he seems much happier. While we have breakfast, I notice he keeps staring at me, although I am used to this it makes me a little self-conscious. 

“Your fur looks better. Softer.” He mumbles around a Twinkie. 

“Danke. Er-thank you.” I blush, which he seems to find very nice.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fist time writing smut, so yay!

“You want a chicken sandwich, hamburger, or jalapeno steak?” Logan read to Kurt from the menu.

“A big, juicy, thick beef hamburger, please!” Kurt batted his eyes at Logan, thankful he agreed to read the menu for him yet again. Logan has been slowly teaching Kurt how to read English, but it was too late and they were far too hungry to wait for Kurt to try and read the whole menu.

Logan just chuckled, a smirk on his face aimed at Kurt’s lips wrapped around the straw to his drink. They had been doing this for a few days. Subtle flirting, not so subtle innuendos. It was obvious they both wanted each other. No one made a move, however, until one night when they got caught in a particularly bad storm and had to rent a room in a motel somewhere in southern Ohio.

Once the door was unlocked, both men stumbled into the room, quickly shutting the door behind them.

“Yeesh” Logan growls out. Kurt just nods in agreement, enraptured by a now shirtless Logan. His eyes raked over the very muscular form of Logan's back, lingering at the slight cleft exposed by his low sitting jeans. 

“See something you like?” Logan asks, toweling off his hair. Startled, Kurt returns to drying himself off, trying desperately to hide the blush that is painting his face and neck almost purple. Logan stalks over, trapping Kurt between the wall, the dresser, and Logan’s chest. Barely an inch apart, Logan growls deep. They stare at each other, seemingly lost in each others eyes. Then, millimeter by millimeter, they move their heads towards each other. 

Finally, finally! Their lips touch, a switch is thrown, and suddenly they are ravenously kissing, sucking, biting each others lips, hands caressing arms, hips grinding against hips, breath being shared between the two. They desperately try and get closer than just skin contact, and soon a small, furry blue body is lifted, taken over to the single bed. Clothes start coming off, first a shirt, then shoes, then some pants, until it’s just two very aroused, hot, wet bodies grinding, gasping, and rutting against each other.

“I-I’m going t-to-“ Kurt gasps out. Logan grunts in reply, well on his way to that same release. They lay there panting while muscles are rubbed and fur is stroked. Logan scoots over and Kurt covers them both with a blanket, both too tired to clean up tonight.

Under the sound of the howling wind and thundering skies, a soft, trusting purr made itself known for the first time in a long while.


End file.
